The exultations of the racing engine settled into resonance in her bones. That infinite song from
the game of her youth: late nights tingling with the fear of monsters, inside and out. It was to
that simple melody and tempo the Pacific mountain trees streaked past her. An empty highway, an
ending known.
II. An empty highway, an ending known. Leaving him behind, she was driving to the edge of the world.
Skating on a blade at the mountains' edge, she could feel the breath of ice in her racecar, which
seemed to have more negative space than she had thought.
III. Magnification awaited her twenty-nine miles past these mountain roads and three decades later.
But she did not know it all now. Nor did she know her speed, or the speed limit. Her engine hummed
at the frequency of those ancient things, and nothing would matter less than it did now, the jubilee
of the past.